even this planet will not last forever.

how many times a day do you think about death, and the fact that you will, maybe soon, die? does this thought ever come upon you without fear. or is it always a cold thing in the pit of your stomach. do you try to imagine what it will be like? that last moment of breath. i do, but it is all in vain. no matter how many times i dream of that bridge, there is no way of knowing it’s weight until i get to it. until i’m a dead man it’s only a pose. when i am dead all of my posing will be done. 

for now i sit and contemplate. with the certain knowledge that death’s mouth is open, and so is the womb ever bringing forth life. but someday even that will be shut, and the whole life of man will have passed as a parade.